The Ties that Bind
by XProphaneX
Summary: Throin x OC. Yaoi. To make ties between the Kingdom of Erebor and The Kingdom of the Greenwood, the prince Thorin is set to wed the Ward of the Greenwood, Fanrell. The two men are forever bound in an arranged marriage, but the friction between them driving them apart from the start. Will they cope? Will the marriage fall apart or prosper? Comments are very much welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one: Weddings.

Iona had seen a lot in her long years of life. She had seen a white stag gallop threw the tree's of the Greenwood, seen the Princes grow from Elfling to the beginnings of wiser men, seen the stars sparkle so close that her long pale fingers could almost reach out and capture one...but she had never yet met an equal when it came to Fanrell and his endless litany of childish complaints about having his hair braided.

"Ah! Valar! You're pulling my hair out!" Screeched the snow haired young Elf as the maid dutifully tugged the next lock of hair into it's home between it's brothers.

"If you do not cease your constant twitching I shall personally nail you to this chair!" The older elf snapped irritably. That seemed to do the trick and by the reflection of the young male's face in the mirror he was too busy weighing up the likelihood of her carrying out that threat to do much twitching. He seemed to find it more than plausible and held still with nothing more than a dark mutter of:

"I swear you are a torture Master."

Iona silently continued her assault on the males white hair, pulling out diamond and silver pins, that had been fashioned to resemble snowflakes, and sliding them home. In all her years she had never quite met anyone with white hair like the ward of the King. She remembered the day that Thanduil had first delivered him into her care., small and ragged and covered from head to foot in mud, hair nothing more than a dirty black and full of twigs and leaves. It was only after getting him into a hot bath and cleaning him more than three times that she found his hair to be the colour of moonlight. It had been many years since that day.

"Iona...do you need more light?"

The older elf looked into the mirror to see Fanrel giving her a strange look and only then realised that her eyes had filled up with the beginnings of tears. She was quick to give one of the stands of hair and particularly sharp tug which in turn produced a yelp and a distraction.

"Don't you be worrying about my sight, young man you have greater concerns today, think on them." She said as she fixed the last of the small braids into their right places and stepping back. "Now stand up and turn around let me look at you."

There was a scarping of the chair and the younger Elf stood as ordered and looked at her with a lifted eyebrow and arms outstretched. He was wearing a silver robes of velvet decorated down one side with white thread in the pattern of frosted leaves almost sweeping to the floor, white leggings beneath and white leather boots to the knee hidden from sight. Everything was themed to frost or snow.

"My little Thorn has truly become a flower." Iona said with a little pride.

"Flowers don't grow in winter." Fanrell said with a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth. Iona rolled her eyes and and took the young man's chin between thumb and pointer in a strong grip.

"You will brush your hair every night, back and sides, one hundred strokes, no excuses." the older elf said sternly "I do not care what anyone says you will bathe in some fashion at least once a day, mountains are filthy. You will take a brisk walk for your health somewhere in the open air, you will write home at least 4 times a month or may the light of the stars fade to nothing if I will not march into that mountain and clip you around the ear until you see stars-" She was cut off by a hug, the Ward of the Greenwood escaped her grip on his chin and wrapped his arms around the closest thing to a Mother he had ever known and held tightly.

"Thank you Iona. For everything. I am going to miss you." He said softly before standing back and giving her one of his most winning smiles. A knock at the door had Iona back to her usual stern self in no time and she hurried over to answer the door. Legolas, young Prince of the Greenwood was standing on the other side and after standing back and allowing him to enter the room the older Elf excused herself quietly to make packing arrangements.

The blond elf stood there for a moment looking over his adoptive brother slowly. It was odd not seeing him in his patrol clothing with his bow and other assortment of death-bringers. He looked like the Prince of Winter, lost in the wrong season. All pale skin and snowy hair, Iona had outdone herself in making him look completely different to his natural self, she should be proud.

"You look like snowdrift." Legolas said abruptly "A very pretty snowdrift." he corrected himself.

"Never call me 'pretty' ever again." was the curt reply he got before more silence. It seemed to stretch between them for a while, like a gaping abyss...until Fanrell lost the game of control and started laughing, closely followed by his Princely companion. They walked forward and embrace in a familiar hug for a moment before making their way to the bed and sitting down. Fanrell launched himself on it in a way that would have had Iona screeching about wrinkles in his clothing.

"So...in a few minuets you are going to be a Dwarvish bride." Legolas commented.

"Like hell I am!" Fanrell snorted "I don't have the facial hair for that." That was certainly true "Have you seen him?"

"Your beloved? Oh yes he's in the hall right now standing there like a stunted granite statue." The Prince said. It was met with silence for a short while, then:

"And?"

"And what?" Legolas said with a straight face, he had to duck swiftly to avoid a pale hand trying to clip him round the back of the head "My, Fanrell! How very unladylike like of you." That comment found him diving off the bed to avoid the hand now in a fist.

"You are lucky that Iona hid all my daggers." Fanrell sniffed. "Now tell me more about him."

"What more is there to say?" Legolas asked shrugging his shoulders "He's short, broad and hairy, just like every other dwarf."

Fanrell huffed and pulled a face, brushing a little fluff from one of his blankets off his silver sleeve. "You could have had the decency to lie to me about that at least."

"Would you like me to lie to you?" The Prince said, cautiously sitting back down on the bed an arms length from his brother.

A short silence to consider if it would help, then "Yes."

"Alright then." Legolas cleared his throat and his voice took on a more poetic note "He's tall for a dwarf, he has shapely cheekbones, a firm, muscular body and skin as smooth as a flower petal. His complication is that of milk and honey and he seems as strong in character, yet soft too, capable of great kindness and love." Legolas said with a hand to his chest like he was serenading a lover.

There was a short pause as that vision hung in the air. "I change my mind. You can't lie for all the gold under the dwarfs mountain." Fanrell said with a raised eyebrow.

Before Legolas could retort to that insult on his pride the door opened without a knock and the king of the Greenwood himself, Thanduil, strode inside, striking, water blue gaze settling on his ward and his young son like a waterfall, washing the mirth from the room. Legolas looked to his adoptive brother and put a hand on his shoulder, and with one last smile he vanished, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him with a light click.

Fanrell stood slowly and brushed himself off letting the weight of the fabric drag the slight creases out as gravity took it's hold. The silence that stretched was not the comfortable silence of brothers sharing each others company but of a child and it's father. Whatever else Thanduil had been to Fanrell he had been his only father figure. Teaching him, steering him, favouring him, to some extent raising him as his own, among his own children. If anyone commanded his loyalty it was the King.

"Iona has outdone herself...you look pleasing, more so, in fact, than I had expected." Thanduil said in that slow manner in which he was accustomed to speaking. The elf never rushed his words for anyone. "I might even go as far as saying Lordly." He crossed the room to stand in front of his ward. "Are you ready?"

Fanrell nodded slowly. Much debate inside his own mind had had him laying awake at night thinking about what he was doing, was he throwing his life away? Was it right of the King to ask him this? To make him nothing more than a thing to be traded for metals and jewels and footsoldiers? In the end he had decided that yes, he was...because if the King had not found him that day, had not brought him back to his people and become his carer then he would, without doubt, be a corpse by now.

Thanduil nodded solemnly. "Then it is time, Fanrell." he extended a hand silently, and with a slow exhale Fanrell's hand was laid on top and together they walked to the door.

The wedding was small, and not just because half of the party where dwarves. Legolas and a few of the higher elves where present to witness, Iona stood at the back watching silently as the boy she had always considered her son stood before both the King under the Mountain and the King of the Greenwood, facing his soon to be husband, Prince Thorin, son of Thrain.

In front of the witnesses of both races they swore that they would take no other lovers, lend each other strength in times of weakness, Share in each others triumphs and failures and love each other to the end of their lives. It was as simple as that, one moment, one promise disguised as many and two people that had moments ago been free to choose where their hearts belonged were tied together forever, as were the houses they represented.

No kisses where exchanged, no affections, only rings, Thorin's was a broad band of gold with the elvish form of his name and the name of his partner, Fanrell's was more delicate and made of silver the band thick enough only to hold his name in runes, along with Thorin's comfortably. There was applause when the ceremony ended, though it seemed enthusiastic enough none present could fail to hear the strain in the voices and the hesitation in the clapping of hands.

"To the chamber, Let us sign this treaty now our peoples are joined." Thror boomed as his iron boots thumped along the ground heading to the meeting room he and the dwarves had been waiting before the wedding.

As was customary between newly-weds Thorin offered his arm to Fanrell, who was apparently taking the bridal roll in this wedding, much to his internal irritation. He played along however, laying his slim long fingered hand over the top and lacing his thin digits with the firm, thicker fingers of his husband. Now holding hands they made their way towards the meeting chamber, as stiff as wooden puppets.

The chamber was already ringing with the voices of the council of both kings. There where two empty seats next to eachother and after pulling one of them out for Fanrell, Thorin took his own seat. The elf sat down slightly more heavily than he probably should have if he had been paying attention to his role, but as far as he was aware his polite and delicate act was over the moment the contract was signed.

The snowy haired young Elf took the opportunity to discreetly get a better look at his husband, threw the ceremony he had been concentrating so much on his prompting that he had never really paid much attention to his intended. Thorin was actually rather handsome for a dwarf. Yes he still had a lot of facial hair, not something that Fanrell found attractive to be honest, however unlike most of his race, Thorin's beard was short and well groomed. He had nice long dark hair with slight waves threw it, unlike his own straight white locks, and the most astonishing blue eyes that Fanrell had ever seen of any race. They were like a lake, deep and cool and refreshing. _It could have been a lot worse I suppose... _he thought to himself calmly.

The treaty had been laid out on the large stone table for both parties to look over. Though the main portion of the treaty had already been laid out and agreed to, there was always room for minor improvements. Some small matters and a few wording errors had been added and corrected by the elves who where now re-reading the parchment in order to asses the little parts added by the dwarves. The King's ice blue eyes where currently running over the words and numbers on display for him, it wasn't until he got right near the bottom of the treaty that his eyes widened slightly, such a small change in his expression but a thousand warning bells tolled in the gathered elves. Fanrell's gaze swiftly found Thror's face across the table and watched as he smiled a little smugly.

"This was not here the last time." The King of the Greenwood said pointing to the accused sentence with a long pale finger, much like a bug that was due a squashing. Nothing in his posture gave away that he was ill-pleased, with the exception of that single pointing digit.

"It was added," The Dwarven King said simply "as insurance of your aid in times of trouble. I noticed a slight wording error in one of the clauses pertaining to it. 'Aid shall be rendered when members of both races share a mutual enemy where elves and dwarves are in immediate danger from a shared threat.' it is just there," the dwarfs own thick finger poked at the parchment. "We simply thought it easier to add in something to cover it up. Far easier than sending it back to be reworded, best not to waste a King's valuable time."

The King's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, any soft edges vanishing replaced by sharp angles. Seems that wherever this clause was it something that foiled his very careful wording. The Dwarf had not missed a thing it seemed. "Fanrell." He said without breaking his stride in the slightest. "Come here."

The white haired elf stood as commanded and walked, or more to the point swept, over to his adoptive father in silence, this did not bode well. The Kings finger now lay under the offending clause and he laid that ice-fall gaze on his Ward.

"If you would be so kind...as to read this aloud." He said slowly, eyes never leaving the younger elf's face.

Sharing a half worried glance with his blond haired brother he cast his eyes to the parchment and started to read, realisation dawning with every syllable.

"The bride of Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror shall be escorted by armed guard when outside of the great halls of the Kingdom of Erebor at all times. Extended trips of a day or more must be granted by permission of the King under the Mountain, for the brides own safety."

Thranduil had to sign. He couldn't back out of the agreement or risk an incident by openly proclaiming why the clause was out of the question. The Elf King had played with fire and for once he had been burned, in trying to ensure that without direct danger to the elves he need not dispatch his army to defend the dwarves he had sealed Fanrell's prison doors. Dwarves where meticulous about contracts after all. How could have thought to trick them?

He looked up and straight back into that gaze of frigid cold. It didn't say sorry, it didn't ask for forgiveness. It simply said goodbye, he was still going to sign and Fanrell was going to pay the price. He nodded curtly, stiff as an oak branch and turned his head again, unable to meet the gaze of his brother, he saw the King under the Mountain with a proud look on his face. It was a look that made the white haired elf want to drive something sharp threw it. The dwarf next to Thror seemed less proud of the victory, his grey two pronged beard swaying slightly as he shook his head a little. Finally his eyes settled on his husband, blue eyes simply looking at him without much emotion all.

Fanrell closed his eyes for a moment before walked steadily to the seat he had been occupying before he had read that life altering line. He folded his hands in his lap, eyes looking directly ahead, he sat stiff as stone. The rest of the signing was soon over, he never moved, never stirred from his silent sentential next to his husband. When it was over the dwarves all rose and headed to the door, Thorin once again offered his hand to his new partner but this time it was coldly refused. The silver clad elf stood "Thank you for the offer of assistance, my Lord, but I am alright. I shall see you at the caravan when we ride home." And that was all before he strode from the room.

Sitting on his pony by the gate Thorin tapped his fingers on the saddle in boredom. The rest of his posture was just as lordly as it had been at the wedding but this one little show of irritation was enough to tip off Balin that the Prince was still young and not so stoic as he seemed.

"Is something wrong, Laddie?" The older dwarf asked leaning in a little bit to keep their conversation private from the milling elves and the other members of the dwarvish company that where pulling themselves into saddles.

"Nothing is wrong. Where is that Elf?" Thorin muttered turning his head to look around and see if his husband was in the crowd.

"Thorin lad, you might want to go a little easy on the boy, after all he's loosing a lot more than just his freedom with this Marriage." Balin said with a meaningful look to the younger dwarf. This match was hard for both young men involved, both of them so young and with so little preparation for a life of partnership, especially when they where strangers. Balin had advised against this way of cementing their alliance, but the King had been adamant that he wanted assurances more than ink scratches on a bit of parchment.

Thorin nodded a little but still seemed displeased by the whole thing. The older dwarf gave a little sigh, seeing that there was still work to be done here and tried again to wriggle out the problem currently plaguing his Prince.

"Is there something else that is on your mind?"

The question was not blocked as before but rather diverted "Where is he going to sleep?" This had been question the Prince since they had told him he was being married to the Ward of the Greenwood. Other than being told he was to be wed very little information had actually been given t him and he was under the impression that his other duties as a Prince where more pressing than asking questions about something he had little interest in.

Balin suddenly looked a little flustered, and cleared his throat a little. Had he known how little had actually been explained to the Prince about arranged marriages then he would have taken the young dwarf aside and explained it to him long before now.

"He will sleep where all other brides sleep, Thorin..." Balin said as if explaining something very troubling to someone very volatile. Thorin just started at him with blue eyes, it was a stare that spoke volumes without the assistance of the mouth and it quite plainly yelled "You're joking!"

It was at that moment a dapple grey horse was brought from the back of the train to stand towering next to Thorin's pony. Both dwarfs sat up in their respective saddles and a much less grandly dressed Fanrell, now in greens and browns of the forest, walked up next to the beast and gracefully pulled himself into the saddle and looked down at his husband with a somber face, his blue eyes looked slightly puffy and pink around the edges to Balin but soon they where turned away from the dwarves as though they where nothing but backdrop and the moved off to linger on a few in the crowd and the royal family that where ready to send them on their way.

Balin sighed as he watched Thorin bite his tongue only because an outburst would bring shame on his father and grandfather. Balin couldn't blame him for his anger, that elvish winter gaze had held nothing but barley concealed contempt for those it landed on. This marriage was going to be like a storm and more than just the unhappy couple where going to have to weather it's gales.

The room was a mess, there was shredded silver silk everywhere, hanging from the bed, chairs and tables. There was water on the floor and the silver pitcher that sat by the bed was flung halfway across the room, a chest was flung open and the contents now nothing more than a mess of rumpled and screwed up fabric. The silver pins where haphazardly laying on the dressing table, a long scratch on the polished mirror where one of the cut diamonds had been dragged across it. In the centre of this whirlwind's aftermath was Iona. She had to take a few moments to compose herself before she started to clean up the devastation left in the Wards wake.

She pulled the torn silk ribbons off their hanging places and silently dumped them by the door in an unruly pile. She had heard too late the account of what had happened in the council chamber and in a last hope of seeing her son she had made her way to the gate, because that's what he was, her son. He might have been Ward of the King but she had raised him, fed him, held him when he scraped his knee and given him a good slap on the back of the head when he got too full of himself.

She was too late, the last of the well wishers had been drifting away and the horses where already small shapes away in the distance followed by the cart that was laden with the Fanrell's luggage. Only Legolas was left standing and watching the riders and the cart passing around the corner and away from sight. Iona stood beside him and even after they had gone they stood for a little longer.

"He shredded his wedding clothes." Iona said stiffly "I don't think he took it well."

Legolas turned away and headed off along the bridge without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Company

The road to Erebor was hardly one of the longest journeys Fanrell had undertaken in his many years, but it just went to prove how slow time passed when you were feeling miserable. His horse seemed to delight in taking slow and measured steps, the road seemed to eternally stretch before him, no matter how long the company to Erebor seemed to travelled along it, the path never seemed to shrink...Fanrell blamed the dwarves, it was all because of their short legs. This was taking twice as long as it should.

He normally enjoyed riding threw his beloved forest, blue eyes taking in the wonder of nature, the blessings that the tree's granted those who cared for them and kept them safe, the sun that played threw the leaves, casting dappled light on the leaf littered floor of oranges and yellows and reds. The sound of the streams and rivers as they gurgled in their banks, knotted and laced with the greedy roots of the nearby tree's who relished the plentiful water. He had spent hours on patrols with Legolas attempting to mimic the calls of birds that flitted threw the trees and animals that rustled around in the leaf littler, granted the only one that had ever had much talent for had been the cawing of a crow, the ugly sound had never failed to have his blonde companion offering him water, "How terrible! Your many admirers must weep nighty for the siren sound of your singing voice to return!" the Prince would say. The fond memory had a soft smile paint itself onto his pale lips for a little while.

Things were going to be very different from now on, mountains where of course just as much a part of the natural world as the trees that he had grown up in, but that was not why he was going to hate it there. Elves liked the open air, the natural sounds of the forest called to them like a lullaby, what could Fanrell expect to hear in his new rocky home? The hammers of smiths making their wares, the sound of rocks scraping against rocks as the miners looked for more commodities to pull from the earth and sell to the highest bidder. A structure of natural greatness hollowed out and stripped bare for profit.

A raucous cry from one of the dwarves broke him from his thoughts and the smile that had slowly been fading with every thought finally vanished all together. He looked around to see one of the guards throwing a small sack of coins to another with a hearty laugh. He wasn't even outside the forest yet and he was already wishing he was back at home, fires of Mordor he needed to grow a spine about this. He cast another look at the dwarves beside him and urged his horse forward a little ways so that he was in front of them, he didn't need to be reminded that he was married by being glued to the man's side all the time.

It was fair to say that Fanrell's mood was not very well hidden from the party around him. Thorin had been forced to change places with Balin, at the older dwarf behest, because the grey haired dwarf had been afraid that one more irritated look from his "bride" might well have incited the Prince of the Lonely Mountain to violence. The resentment between the two was abundantly clear and if something was not done to ease the growing tension then their wedding night might well end in a brawl.

As the older Dwarf sat on his pony considering some way to get the two newly weds to at least be civil to each other the beautiful tree lined roads of the Greenwood fell away to the rolling fields that lay beyond it. and the elf a little ways ahead of them gave a slow realise of breath as his eyes looked over the horizon. It was a beautiful view, especially today when the sun was just starting to dip behind the towering bulk of the Lonely Mountain, the light almost seemed to shatter off the rocky surface and cascade down onto the valleys and hills, the fields and little crops of rock they had yet to pass. Balin gave a little smile and urged his lazy pony onwards, there was still a bit of light in the day yet before they would stop and make camp for the night, a little time yet to lay some kind of plan to keep the peace until they at least reached Erebor.

The dwarf watched the young elf's back as he thought threw all the problems this royal match might bring to bare fruit. One of which was already ripening before his eyes, the one he had told the king would come the moment they had spotted that carefully worded clause from the Elven King. He had tried his best to persuade the mighty Dwarf Lord not to be so cruel but even now he could hear that booming voice calling across time

"That pointy eared excuse for a King thinks that he can manipulate his way out of rendering aid to our people?" Thror had boomed in his great annoyance when he had read over the parchment. "I think not! If he wishes to play by these rules then there shall reciprocations on his own head, rather than ours. There shall _always _be an elf in Erebor!" The quill had been snatched up and the King had carefully started wording the response to the clause on a spare bit of parchment while Balin had tried his best to reason with the man.

"My King might I suggest that we simply return it and ask that the wording be changed to make it clearer, must we really play this game with the elves and sink to their level?" He sighed when the King continued to write without pause "Think of your son's bride."

"What of him?" Thror had asked waving his hand and correcting a few of the phrases in his response "He has nothing to do with this other then as an extra bond of alliance. He is gaining a strong husband, a good home, food and station that he is accustomed to, I see no reason for the Elfling to complain."

Balin had sighed again and leaned on the table close to the King and tried again to point out a glaringly obvious flaw in the spiteful little trickery.

"He will swiftly grow to resent not only this house but the people in it, including the strong husband he is getting on his wedding day. It will cause a discord and sour his relationship with Prince Thorin, they will come to hate each other in the end and the marriage will break apart. Hardly a stable bond between peoples when the married parties cannot stand the sight of each other"

The King of course had not listened, he had added the new clause with the backing of the rest of his council, Balin had been forced to stand back and watch as the ghastly business had been concluded. That was what it was about after all, business, unfortunate that two lives had been dragged into the midst of it.

Thorin was as stone-like as always, he didn't even move his head when he heard the sound escape from his bride at the beautiful scenery was laid out before them as they came to the end of the forest. Even the thought of his "bride" had him bristle internally and fight back a snort. All the elf had done since they had left the city was throw looks at him. Looks that suggested he was made of something the Ward had recently scraped off the bottom of his boots.

Thorin had to admit that when he had first seen his intended he had been a little awe struck. Elves were beautiful creatures there was no doubting it, though of course Dwarves had their own aesthetics and their own idea's of what was classed as beautiful, but it was hard to deny that the star lovers were a race all others found lovely to behold.

Fanrell had seemed no different to all the other fair skinned beautiful creatures that drifted around the city, with all that inherent grace that made the dwarves feel like great beasts in their stumpy metal boots. His white hair, pale skin and silver decked body had been a sight to behold, something Thorin had not been expecting to be lead down the isle towards him. However the moment the wedding had finished and the contract had been signed he had watched that graceful star child turn colder and darker as the moments passed by until that look he had cast in Thorin's direction, when he had climbed onto his horse.

Thorin had not expected to be married off to the Ward of the Greenwood, it was not that he was not attracted to males, he knew that men and women had a different appeal and he had spent a few night in the arms of some male dwarves that had caught his eye. However he had always thought he would be settled down with a nice dwarvish woman of good standing, as his father had done, have a family, children of his own to be next in line to the thrown. In short to live out his days in comfort and happiness, not stuck to the side of a snotty, arrogant slender irritation that did nothing but hold contempt for him.

Thorin hadn't given much thought to what married life to an elf would be like. In fact until a few days before the wedding itself he had pushed it from his mind, mostly because he thought that both his father and grandfather would give up on the idea. He had never even met his intended, only been told by the council that he was considered fair and graceful and would be a good match for him. He had started wondering what the elven Ward had been told of him and weather the elf was hoping the same as he was. When it had become apparent that the wedding was going ahead questions of what would be expected of him had plagued his night's driving off sleep to buzz around him like fireflies. Would they sleep in separate rooms or even in different areas of Erebor all together? Would they only be expected to even see each other at functions and meetings with the elves? What would the Ward be doing while he was attending to his own duties?

He looked ahead to Fanrell's back and sighed, if the comment Balin had made about them sharing a bed was indeed correct he assumed they would be seeing a lot of each other, more than likely more than he was comfortable with. It certainly answered a lot of his questions about his married life. Soon they would be making camp and he would have to share a tent with the man, and a bedroll too and considering it was their wedding night...If they were to sleep as partners then surely they were also expected to...consummate the marriage. That thought sent a shiver along his spine. After all there was more to that sort of thing than looks alone and he was not feeling in the spirit to try and make love to a man that looked at him like mud.

"Balin?" he caught the older dwarf's attention by giving his shoulder a shake, he wouldn't be overly surprised if the other dwarf was asleep on his horse as he seemed to have the ability of sleeping anywhere down to an art.

"Aye, lad?" the advisor turned his head to look at the prince.

"What else do you know about him?" He nodded in the direction of the Elf's back as his body moved gracefully with the rhythm of the horse. Thorin wasn't sure why exactly but even that seemed to irk him.

Balin gave a sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He might be very close to the Prince and could get away without the bowing and scraping and title calling but there was still high regard and respect for his position."And why are you asking me?"

"Who else could I ask? You are on my Grandfathers council." Thorin said with his own exasperated sigh.

Balin lost the battle against the muscles in his eyes and they rolled. The Prince was an intelligent young dwarf, but it seemed that occasionally he, like his grandfather, could missed the Mumakil in the room.

"How about asking _him_?" he hooked a thumb in the direction of the elf in question. "You are married Thorin you will actually have to talk to each other when the occasion calls for it."

Thorin was about to say something when there was a call from the fount of the caravan. Seems that they were to camp here for the night. He gave Balin a look that meant to tell him they would talk about this later but the older dwarf simply brushed it off and pointed meaningfully at Fanrell's back as the graceful creature dismounted with the lightest of landings. How on earth had he been married off to a man that irritated him by literally doing anything at all?!

Even though Fanrell was the Ward of the Greenwood, and therefore considered among royalty, he and his adoptive brother had always been close with the Silven elves, and on patrol they always did their fair share of setting up the camp. Thorin had completely ignored him and headed over to his family after dismounting, it seemed that he had no more interest in seeing if the elf needed any help with anything.

Fanrell wandered around the Dwarf camp on his own, nobody really seemed to take much notice of him, a nod now and then but mostly the dwarves got on with their work. Feeling like he was not pulling any weight at all he took to offering to help with things or just doing jobs he seen that needed to be done that nobody seemed to have spotted.

However when he asked he was polity thanked but told that it was all being handled, nothing to concern himself with. and each and every time he started a job he thought people wouldn't notice him doing a dwarf would hurry over and take it on himself, thankng the elf for alerting them to the mistake and to rest up. After the fifth time this had occurred the elf just stood and sighed, bowed his head respectfully to the dwarf that had taken over the task and then moved away to stand around awkwardly, leaning back against a large rock and watching the dwarves hurrying about their tasks.

A disgruntled whinny to his left made him turn his head, his horse was standing like a white soldier among the ponies the dwarves rode, they were penned in a makeshift corral, wicker fencing, so they didn't wander off in the middle of the night. Fanrell hated to see the things stood there bored out of there minds just as he was...and they were so very out of the way. The Elf looked around to see if there was anyone watching him, and found he was being more or less ignored just as before, out of the way, not getting under anyone's feet, oh the irony. He gave a sly smile and started casually making his way over to the penned creatures, nobody batted and eyelid. Perfect.

His ears had picked up a stream not to far away, he had no doubt that the pony's would fair far better after having a nice cool drink and a graze on the lush water-fed grass than they would standing around packed together like fish in a barrel. Reaching up he ran his hand down the nose of the dapple horse his brother had bought him a year or two ago, then he opened the latch on the gate and let it swing open. The ponies as was their natural instinct simply stayed together in a loose heard till Fanrell took the reigns of his horse and started quietly leading them away toward the stream hidden by the rocks around their camp, the herding instinct causing them to follow quietly after each other, one by one disappearing behind the rocks.

One of the dwarves nearest to the penned ponies looked up when he thought he thought he heard a few whinnies and almost yelled out when he saw the last of their beasts swishing tails vanishing away behind the rocks, but a hand on his shoulder silenced him, causing him to simply turn around to come face to face with a smiling Balin.

"I wouldn't cause a fuss, Lad." the Dwarf said patting the dwarf on the back, "They are in good hands, best to just get on with your job."

The stream was beautiful, it started at a tiny waterfall cascading down a few taller rocks and into a small pool. Fanrell counted his elvish sight among his most loved of blessings, from his vantage point on one of the huge boulders around the pool he could watch the river meandering it's way threw banks surrounded by lush green grass. His leather boots beside him and his pants rolled up to his knees, the elf let his pale feet dangle in the cold, soothing water.

Fanrell's horse, Ellond, and his pony companions were enjoying a little freedom of their own, drinking from the stream, grazing on the greenery around the river banks some were even playing together running here and there chasing each other and acting like wild things once more. Though if they wandered a little too far Ellond would run off to heard them back to the rest of the group, it made Fanrell chuckle a little to see the great horse acting like a worried parent when the little one's strayed.

If Fanrell closed his eyes he could just about fool himself that he was home, or on patrol with his group, his brother would be tending the fire, Eruestan and Lathron would be savaging for food, mushrooms and wild berries and Limdur would be hunting rabbits for stew. He could almost taste it now if he though about it hard enough.

"Hello there, excuse me, Prince Fanrell."

The call shattered the fragile spell and the elf turned in his seat to see the dwarf with the long two pronged beard standing in the grass behind him, his hands neatly behind his back and a friendly smile on his face. When he had managed to sneak up on him?

"I'm a Ward not a Prince, Sir." Fanrell said politely as he pulled his feet from the cold soothing pool and swung around to let them dry on the rock where the dying rays of the sun warmed them. "Are you the one tasked with taking care of the ponies?" Was he being robbed of yet another job he had managed to content himself with?

"No, no...you're doing a fine job, and begging your pardon, but you are married to Prince Thorin so in my reckoning that also makes you a Prince." The Dwarf chuckled to himself and walked a little closer, "Might I take a seat? My bones are not at strong as my mind I am afraid."

"Of course." Fanrell scooted over a little to give the Dwarf some more room to plant himself down. The smaller male climbing up the stone like a mountain goat...and considering the beard Fanrell had to fight back a smile at how fitting the animal comparison was to the dwarf.

"Thank you." Once he was settled down he gave the Prince a seated bow "Balin, son of Fundin, at your service."

"I am sure this is redundant seeing as you already know my name but in honour of the ceremony of the thing-" He stood and gave a dignified bow in return to the dwarf "Fanrell, Ward of the Greenwood, at yours." he sat back down and straightened his clothing a little.

"I was wondering if we might talk." Balin said with a little chuckle, he rather liked the young elf, he had some spirit.

"We are talking now, Master Balin," Fanrell pointed out.

"That we are, Laddie, that we are." Balin gave Fanrell a look that made the elf feel that he was about to get a lecture of some sort. "It's rather apparent that you're not very happy and I wanted to make sure everything is aright in that wee head of yourn." His hidden question was met with silence "I know this treaty has been harsh to you, making you leave your home was inevitable but the hindrances that have been put on your visits must have been a hard blow."

Fanrell nodded curtly, he had understood that he would have to live in Erebor and though it had been a hard thought to wrap his head around he had reasoned with himself that he would be free to go home any time he needed to, see the people he loved, attended feasts and parties. That was the major comfort that he had derived from the fact he would be leaving.

"I cannot say that you shouldn't be hurt or angered by the new clause, that is your right and nobody can ask you to just accept it." the dwarf continued "I only ask you one thing, that you do not hold your husband responsible." the elf turned his head to look at the smaller male with a raised eyebrow. "Thorin knew nothing of the Kings plan's for you. If he had I am sure that he might have had something to say about it"

"I have not said that I blame him for anything." Fanrell said defensively.

"You have not needed to use your words, Prince Fanrell, your actions and your looks have been more than enough to crack his dwarvish pride." Balin said sternly when the elf became defensive, "You may not love him, he may not be all that you dreamed or hoped for but he is just as much a victim of this marriage as you are." He tried to soften his words, he didn't mean to pass blame on either of them but nor did feel that Fanrell's behaviour warranted defence.

This comment too was met with silence, the elf was looking over the field were the ponies played like children, but the set of his pale lips told the dwarf he had hit a chored somewhere, hopefully it would be reverberating in the young man's mind, working it's magic.

"I will come and collect you when the food is ready." Balin said patting the leather clad knee nearest to him and picking himself up off the rock and heading away back to the camp, happy in the knowledge that he might have planted a seed that would keep the problems at bay for now.

When Thorin came out of his grandfathers tent for the meal he was met with an unusual sight, the elf was busy herding all the ponies, one at a time, back to the corral they had been stationed in. He seemed to be counting them as they appeared from behind a large rock. He rose a single eyebrow but before he could walk over and say anything about it, his father and grandfather came out of the grand tent and started pushing him over to the fire where there was a great amount of meat set on trays and even more roasting over the fire.

Throin took a seat and noticed that there was a pillow next to him, he presumed for his bride to take a seat on. Wonderful, a whole meal spent in the company of someone that couldn't stop throwing dagger filled looks at him.

"Where is our Elvish bride?" boomed Thror. It was something about being King, Thorin had always assumed, that had changed his grandfather's voice from a normal volume to one that now echoed off near mountains and caused small avalanches. "Fanrell, where are you lad?"

Throin was about to tell his grandfather where he had last seen the slender irritant when said elf appeared in the crowd and made his graceful way over to Thorin's side. "I am here, my King, pardon my lateness." He then proceeded to remove the cushion and throw it to Balin, who caught it with and chuckle "For your poor bones, Master Balin." he folded himself down onto the ground beside Thorin and offered him a small smile, barley a twitch of his lips "Forgive me, my husband."

The Dwarf Prince was rather taken by surprise, the elf had certainly changed his tune in the few hours it had taken to set up the camp. He didn't get a chance to dwell on it however as his Grandfather was talking and when that voice spoke you had little choice but to listen.

"Not at all, not at all. No cushion? Goodness I thought elves too skinny to have the natural padding." the King chuckled in good sport. "Well then let the meal begin!"

"A little louder grandfather I don't think the elves back in the greenwood heard you clearly." Thorin muttered under his breath sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it a bit to try and stop the ringing.

"Oh I don't know...that dwarf over there didn't seem to hear him" came a smooth and quiet voice from his side. Fanrell was leaning towards him slightly and pointing to a guard that looked to have fallen asleep leaning on his spear.

Was that an actually a real smile on the elf's face? Gold under the mountain it was. It actually made a smile pull at the edges of Thorin's lips as well despite his best efforts The dwarf tucked into the trays of meat and bread that were being passed around. When he had passed the third, tray laden with some kind of meat, to Fanrell he caught and odd look on the elf's face.

"Everything alright?" He felt a bite of irritation coming back, what was the food not good enough for him or something?

Fanrell passed the tray on without taking anything from it with a smile to the dwarf on his other side him and then looked around to his husband and after a second shook his head. "No, nothing wrong...I was just wondering if there was anything...green," he had so far only taken some salted pork and a bread roll. "I am not used to a heavily meat diet." He said breaking open the roll and putting a little bit into his mouth.

Throin actually had to think about that, he had noticed at his short stay in the Greenwood there had been an awful lot of vegetable's at each meal along with the meat and the bread and the cheese. In fact over half of the food had seemed to be plant material.

"It doesn't travel very well." He explained as he started pulling apart a chicken breast, taking strips off the ribs. "Mostly we carry or hunt meat for journeys but I promise there are vegetables in the mountain."

"I suppose I am just used to travelling in the forest." Fanrell said as he pulled some of the fluffy centre of the roll out of the crusty shell and wrapped a thin slice of the salted pork around it before popping it into his mouth. "There are normally things like mushrooms and the like growing everywhere if you know where to look and wild herbs, like garlic."

The rest of the meal passed under a relatively good mood, Fanrell soon found out that if you wanted to eat when you lived with dwarves that you had to get your food as fast as possible or you didn't get any at all. This was not just because the dwarves themselves seemed to eat a great deal in a very short space of time but because when there was singing and dancing and general merriment, food seemed to change from sustenance into a projectile weapon. More than once he had found himself ducking to avoid an errant chicken or turkey legbone and at one point was almost covered in hard boiled egg had Thorin not grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged his head down. If nothing else it was an experience.

After the meal a brawl broke out among some of the guards and soon bags of money were being thrown around as bets were taken on who would be left standing at the end of it all. At an Elvish party this would have been considered a travesty, but here even the King and the royal family were tossing sums of money around joining in on the betting and later Fanrell was surprised to learn that one of the combatants was Thorin's cousin, Dain and he was the victor after a few breaks for Ale mid match. His opponents where left laying around, groaning nursing bruised foreheads.

It seemed to the elf that dwarves were much freer in their merriment and the way in which they celebrated than the elves were. Elves were far more refined and controlled in their displays, their music more melody and beauty than the catchy tunes that the dwarves came out with, Elvish dance was more about skill and choreography unlike the way the dwarves flung themselves about. Fanrell watched it all with interest, drawing the conclusion that although it was different it didn't making it a lower kind of enjoyment, at one point he even found his foot tapping and head bobbing along to some of the catchier tunes.

It was late that night when the King decreed that it was time for the watch to begin and for everyone else to go to bed. Both Thorin and Fanrell seemed to stiffen up as the same thought had struck them...Oh no...it's time. Thorin was the first to unfreeze himself from his spot, he offered a hand to Fanrell who after a brief hesitation took it, pulling himself up from his cross legged positions on the ground.

Together the newly weds made their way, under the watchful eyes of the assembled dwarves, to their tent. Thorin was a perfect gentleman and pulled back the flap for his bride. Fanrell slipped inside in a less than graceful manner, in his nervousness he forgot to duck creating an awkward scene when his face almost met the side of the tent, he had to step back and bend in order to get inside.

The tent was beautifully decorated, there were lamps dotted around, resting on anything solid so as to illuminate the canvas house with soft yellow light. Fanrell noticed the bed and carefully avoided it as he stepped over the soft plump mattress covered in pillows and fur throws. When he heard Thorin enter the tent and the flap flop closed he felt that awkwardness again rising.

So in order to avoid actually having to talk to the dwarf he had married, for just a few more minuets, he moved over to his trunk. Kneeling in front of it he shifted one of the candle lamps from off the lid and set is one the floor, opening the lacquered wooden box to fish out some looser clothing. The silence in the tent was thick and heavy with everything the was. Just. Not. Being. Said. Thank you very much. He found what he was looking for and pulled out his hairbrush a loose fitting shirt and some half length loose linen pants before closing the box back up.

Thorin was standing stiffly by the door, watching him with those lake blue eyes, he seemed to be struggling with saying something. He, like Fanrell, wished to avoid associating with the bed at all costs, including looking at it. Maybe he was thinking that if he didn't look at it, it didn't exists. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back, much as Balin had done back by the river. Fanrell used his clothing chest as a seat and started to upbraided his hair, pulling it over one shoulder to brush it, looking expectantly at the dwarf.

"Look I have...I...well we... we don't have to..." Watching Thorin stutter and try to faultily snatch at words was surprisingly sweet to the elf, and also rather calming on his nerves, it showed that at least when it came to this they were both in the same boat. "I can sleep on the floor." The dwarf finished clearing his throat again.

"You don't have to do that." Fanrell said passing the brush threw his currently less than silky strands "Elves do not sleep as dwarves and men do, it is more akin to mediation we can even do it while walking." Was that a hit of nervousness in his voice? "I can sit here all night, it isn't a problem."

That seemed to stump the dwarf a little as he gave Fanrell the strangest look, he assumed that it was not all that strange elves did still need to rest their bodies which was why they did have beds I which to 'sleep' when they needed to.

"That would be uncomfortable surely, I will take the floor-"

"I am not a woman, Thorin." Fanrell interrupted with a little bite of irritation in his voice "If it makes you feel any better we shall both stay on the bed. Just because two people share a space to sleep dose not automatically mean that they will share in...nocturnal rituals." Because he couldn't bring himself to say sex.

The dwarf looked as though he was about to argue but seemed to decide against it after all and deflated somewhat."Agreed."

The elf continued brushing his hair slowly, counting strokes in his head while the silence ballooned anew between them. He hated the feel of an awkward silence, he was generally the first to break them when he was at home, the air just filling with all that dead sound put his teeth on edge.

Thorin, was still hanging around the door like he didn't know where to put himself. He was never normally so hesitant but then again this was a position he had never found himself in before. Sharing a bed with another so that you didn't freeze if you were caught outside in winter was one thing, there was no time for awkward questions or strained politeness, here there was an irritated elf and all the time in the world to stand around like a lost sheep.

He soon seemed to snap out of it though when a yawn made him stretch. That bed was suddenly looking very inviting, considering how he had barley slept for a few days now. Thorin didn't let much get in the way of his sleep when he could help it so he just started undressing. He was not ashamed of his body and he reasoned that seeing as he and Fanrell would be living in the same room, there would come a time when they would have to see each other unclothed and he had had enough of walking on egg shells if he was perfectly honest.

Getting himself out of his heavy top clothing Thorin pulled out the pants he slept in. Just pants, no shirt, he didn't see the point really, sleeping in the mountain was a tricky thing, it was always hot thanks to the furnices and the forges so going to bed even on what were considered cold nights with more clothes than you needed caused restlessness. As he undressed he found himself wondering if he would even be able to sleep with a stranger in the bed next to him, he was known for tossing and turning a lot in his constant need to find a comfortable spot.

When he turned around after pulling on his sleeping pants he was greeted by the site of a tall pale slender elf's back wearing nothing at all. He would have liked to think himself a gentleman but he couldn't help looking him up and down.

"Turn back around Thorin." Fanrell's calm voiced snapped him out of his assessment.

"It's not that impressive a view, you shouldn't flatter yourself," Thorin said but he turned around anyway.

Fanrell folded his arms and looked round once he pulled the loose shirt over his lithe chest. "Then you wouldn't have been staring."

Thorin chuckled and crossed his arms over his barrelled chest turning back and lookiing him up and down, trying not to laugh at the get up "That's what you ware to bed?." and then he lost the battle to hold in the comment that had first come to mind "My sister wares something similar."

There was silence for a moment and then "You're an ass." but there was a hint of amusement in there all the same and the elf climbed into the bed and started trying to settle into a good position in which to rest himself, placing his hands flat on his belly so as to measure his breathing.

Thorin lingered at the side of the bed for a while but soon climbed in, pulling some of the fur blankets over himself and coughed in order to gain the elf's attention, it seemed to fall on deaf ears, The Dwarf Prince seemed to have a very unfair proportion of the bed to his partner. When his subtle clearing of the throat didn't seem to grab Fanrell's attention he lost his patience, already strained as it was, "Do you mind moving up? You the size of a pit prop how on earth can you need so much room?" He complained.

"Because I have arms and legs and I need my space." the Elf said calmly but did indeed move over so that the Dwarf had a little more room to lay down more comfortably.

Thorin slowly and carefully turned onto his side his back facing the elf next to him. He thought with all the things buzzing around in his head there would be no way that he could sleep any time soon and yet within moments he had fallen into an uneasy sleep, but sleep it was still.

When he had dosed off Fanrell turned his head to looked at the sleeping Dwarf. He was still angry, still upset, he was trapped here but Balin's words had echoed deeply inside him. "_but he is as much a victim of this marriage as you are..._"

"Good night Thorin..."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Memories

The next morning Thorin woke with a groan and rolled over, trying to hide his face from the light that was pouring in threw the canvas of the tent. He was unsure as to why being able to roll over in his own bed gave him the impression that something was missing. Shouldn't he be laying on a body right now?

His eyes opened and he raised his head from the pillow and looked around the tent for his bride...no not bride, husband. He really had to get out of the habit of referring to Fanrell as something so feminine, the elf himself was nowhere to be seen.

Pulling himself from under the heavy furs, wrapped and tangled around him from moving in his sleep, he moved to get dressed so he could head out for something to eat. He had slept in this morning judging by the complaints of his growling stomach. As he pulled on his shirt his mind wandered to the elf again, had he driven the lithe creature from the bed with his constant movement? Or was he simply an early riser? He hoped it was the latter, he was not really in the mood for some sort of spiteful tirade from the white haired male abut how his night was ruined by a flailing bed partner.

Outside the tent, moments later, he found a bustling camp around him. Guards were starting to pack up and load everything into the carts, there were shouts and orders being called and Thorin spotted his father and grandfather at a makeshift table with food in front of them, left over's from the night before no doubt. When his Grandfather saw him, he waved him over enthusiastically.

Throin settled himself on one of the stools and started pulling meat and bread from the trays in front of him while his father leaned over and winked. "So, how was your wedding night?" the tattooed dwarf asked as he pulled another few slices of ham towards himself and added them to his plate.

"We slept." Throin said shortly, so that they understood that there was nothing to elaborate on.

"You just slept?" Thror said raising an eyebrow and putting down the bread roll he had been buttering "You didn't consummate the marriage?" There is was again, that bloody word 'consummate',Throin was starting to really hate it.

"The marriage is still legally binding weather I sleep with the elf or not is it not, Grandfather?" He asked before biting into a slice of beef. He didn't really care what the answer was, he was not having sex with the elf.

"Of course it is," Thror said, he seemed to be a little annoyed that Throin had suggested the likelihood that he had not taken this into account when he wrote up the contract. "but I thought you would at least have a go! I know he's not very broad and he's missing a lot of hair and he's too tall by half but he _is_ pretty!"

Thorin had to bite his tongue, it did not do to shout at the King under the Mountain even if you were his Grandson. Instead he put some more ham in his mouth and started chewing it vigorously.

"Father I am sure in time that Thorin and Fanrell will be become closer." Thrain said as he started stripping a chicken leg. "They have only known each other for a night after all, and I am sure the elf was as nervous as a maid."

Yes it seemed that Fanrell was destined to be treated like a lady for the rest of his life, but then again in the eyes of the dwarves he was nothing more than a boy, no matter how many years he had lived, men proved themselves as such and the elf had yet to do so. The Dwarves had always seen the elven race as a little womanly in general, they were all thin and willowy, no matter what the gender they all seemed to ware the same style of garment. Dwarves had a hard time telling them apart, which might have had more to do with prejudice and generalisation than any hard fact.

"Well I should hope so! I'm sure my grandson was a most impressive sight, seeing a real male specimen must have been quite the shock for the creature."

_Anything, I don't care what it is, just something please come and make them shut up! _Thorin though desperately. No man wants to hear his grandfather and father talk about him in such a way, or started talking about his sex life or lack there of.

In a desperate attempt to try and get away from the conversation at hand Thorin turned his head to watch the camp being taken apart. The canvas of his tent being dropped and rolled and packed, he watched as the chest of Fanrell's clothes was being lifted and it suddenly dawned on him that the very person they had been talking about had yet to be seen. It was not as if he would be hard to pick out among the dwarves, Thorin's eyes swept over his people a few times looking for white hair or a tall form but there was nothing but dwarves before him.

"Where is the elf anyway?" He asked looking back round.

"He is by the waterfall just behind that outcrop of rocks, your majesty." came the soothing tones of Balin from the head of the table. When had he arrived? Thorin didn't remember seeing him there before. "He took the Ponies there for some water and to stretch their legs, elves had a way with animals and I think he likes to have something to do."

"So that's where he disappeared off to." Thrain said with a chuckle. "I wondered what he was doing with our ponies."

"We should reach the mountain in good time, maybe we can even stop at Dale and show Prince Fanrell around. I am sure he will be wanting to spend a lot of his time there."Balin suggested looking meaningfully at Thorin before returning his gaze to the King. "You did say that you needed to speak to Lord Girion about some of the supplies."

As Balin continued to distract his grandfather and father with matters of sate the young dwarf Prince made his escape taking a bread roll and a chicken breast with him, heading to the outcrop of rocks that Balin had pointed out. They would need the ponies back soon, Thorin reasoned, Someone should get as far away from that last conversation as possible and tell Fanrell.

It didn't take the dwarf long to find the stream, he just followed the sound of happy ponies and the thud of hooves onto the ground. As he wandered in the direction of the sound he finished his breakfast, casting the chicken bones to the side as he rounding the last outcrop of standing rocks. He was treated to the peaceful view of the little hidden waterfall, he had never even noticed was there.

Fanrell was sitting on his rock again but this time he was passing a comb threw this white hair, wet with the water from the falls, he must have taken a bath while he was out here, judging by the woollen cloth that lay in a heap by his side. Thorin thought he might surprise the elf but those clear blue orbs were on him already, it seemed the only dwarf capable of sneaking up on an elf was Balin. He ambled over and pulled himself up the rock to sit next to the elf uninvited.

"They asked you about last night, didn't they?" Fanrell said.

"How did...oh no..." Thorin hid his face in his hand in embarrassment.

"Oh yes." Fanrell said with a chuckle. His head was tilted to one side, while he gathered it up and wrung it out like a wet cloth. "They wanted me to be specific."

Thorin just groaned.

It actually took them another day and a half's travel before the train got to the City of Dale. Since their first night together things had become a little less standoffish between Fanrell and Thorin, if no less awkward and prone to occasional little arguments, there was, thankfully, an absence of hateful looks thrown between them. Fanrell rode contentedly by Thorin's side in the train and even if it was in mostly silence.

The countryside was beautiful if very dull, though when you are travelling with a company of dwarves there is always something entertaining not too far in the future. Fanrell had spent several hours on one occation listening in on a particularly loud conversation between Dain and a few of their guards. It consisted mainly of how he had head butted several large and very dangerous animal into submission in his life and how good each of them had tasted on a spit roast. It was a lesson in dwarvish exaggeration Fanrell was sure, because unless there had been something to jump off, he doubted very much that a Dwarf could manage to reach a stag head, never mind find the force to head-but it to death.

As the Lonely Mountain drew closer the company had followed closer and closer to the River Running that flowed threw Dale. They needed to use the bridges and barges to haul everything across in record time. While the company on horseback crossed the bridge, the carts, which were to wide, had to cross the water by barge, the poor little horses were none too happy about standing on a raft while the deep water bubbled and gurgled beneath them.

The company dwarves split up on the road to Dale, the carts and main party continued on to Erebor while the Royal Family and a handful of guards took the road to the city of men. As his horse climbed the steep road, Fanrell saw more and more of the tall building's rising in tiers hight and higher, sprawled over the peek of rock on which the City had been built. The people of Dale had always lived in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, and though Fanrell had drunk their wine for years he had never visited the place itself but had thought it must be a drab grey place without much light or colour.

He was happy to discover that he was wrong. All the buildings and towers were built of the same warm yellow stone, each one topped with orange tiled roofs, brightly coloured flags fluttered in the breeze that swept threw the streets. Animals made of coloured paper soured threw the air on strings and all within the protection of the high city walls, with a guard tower at each corner.

The elf was amazed by the grandeur, as the structures loomed up ahead, he noted that the guards up in the towers closest to them were peering down at the dwarves and their lone elf companion as they made their way to the gate in the wall. There were guards there too, in fur-rimmed helms with a spike sticking out of the top, the elf felt that at some point he might have to ask someone in Dale what exactly the spike was for.

The guard's bowed as The King under the Mountain and his companions rode past. The street that they followed was filled with people and laughter and life itself, there were dwarves here too, walking threw the street's stopping every so often to talk to the citizens of the city, Fanrell had to stop his horse several times when children with wooden swords ran out and started bashing away with their friends, oblivious to the fact that they had almost been squoshed.

The progress was slow but the elf didn't care, there was always something new to see, people or activities, man and women both human and dwarf selling items from baskets, trays, even things from their pockets. The procession stopped when they reached a large and grand looking building and Thror called the hault and dismounted his pony.

"I must speak to the Lord. Balin, Thrain you will come with me." he gave Fanrell a smile "We shall be some time yet. Have a look around."

That was all before the dwarf and those he had summoned vanished threw the guarded doors chattering away to each other about business hat needed doing. Fanrell didn't wait another second and dismounted in an elegant jump from the saddle, he had spent far too long feeling like he was the wrong hight, now he was surrounded by tall people again and he felt refreshed by it. He started to head off into the crowed but was hailed from behind.

"Wait! You don't know where your going." Thorin had dismounted and was handing the reigns over to one of the guards. "I will come with you, last thing we need is to spend hours scouting the entire City looking for you."

"Then you might want to hurry up." Fanrell said with a smirk and he turned around and headed off following the river of people, refusing to wait for the dwarf. They were heading up one of the winding cobble streets, Fanrell was mostly just following the other people, if everyone was walking in this direction then surely there must be something interesting at the top. His blue eyes were bright with almost a childish curiosity as they looked this way and that, taking in the faces of the people, the building's and pots of flowers and little bushes and shrubs.

Thorin was struggling to get to the elf, asking nicely for the people in the crowd to part didn't have such wonderful results, he was either ignored or not heard, in the end he just forced his way threw until he caught up with the striding elf, who's long legs carried him further faster while his lithe frame helped him slip threw the small gaps between people.

"Fanrell! Will you just stop running everywhere and leaving me behind?" He said angrily after his third try at keeping up with the graceful creature.

"I don't know, maybe if you asked me nicely instead of barking at me like a dog then I might be more inclined to listen to you." The elf pointed out as he stopped with his hands on his hips and a sharp look on his face. Te people of Dale seemed to flow round him, as the Running river did when a rock stood in it's path.

Thorin looked affronted, he was about to start an argument, however he realised that having a shouting match with the elf in the middle of a busy street might draw unwanted attention and would no doubt make his family look bad. The insult he had been about to hurl at his husband died on his lips, replaced instead by a low growl of frustration. Why did this elf always pick fights in the most constricting places?

"Please, will you stay where I can see you?" He said slowly threw slightly gritted teeth after taking a breath to calm himself down a little. This was by no means the end of this conversation, the moment that they where no longer in the public eye he was going to have his say.

Fanrell seemed happier now that he had said "please" and started up the hill again, at a slow stroll. He stayed at Thorin's side so that they walked together along with the crowed of people heading ever upwards. The Elf didn't seem to register the silence that thrived between them, probably because the sounds of other people going about the nice, normal lives filled it with chatter and laughter and the shouting of wares.

"Is it always like this?" Fanrell asked as he passed a woman selling red roses from a basket.

"Every day." Throin said curtly.

"I have never seen anything like this, Humans and Dwarves are a lot louder than Elves..." Fanrell said, still looking around "We don't really shout our wares, we just wait for a customer to come and buy what it is they need."

"Mhm." Thorin was confused as to how Fanrell thought that he was in any way interested, didn't the elf realise that he was irritated at him? Was it not overtly obvious that Thorin was mad and not really taking to him? There was silence for a few minuets, finally the elf must have the none so subtle hints, it was rather peaceful without the constant twittering and the dwarf strolled pleasantly with his hands behind his back...the elf really was very quiet now...

Thorin turned to look and see if the elf was offended in some way only to discover he was no longer by his side and he had been walking beside a tall thin human woman instead. The dwarf growled with frustration and turned around on the spot to try and pick out white hair in the crowd and he did, Fanrell was standing in front of a vendor, smiling and giving the young lady a bow of thanks.

The dwarf started fighting his way back down stream to get to the elf, contemplating strangulation, but didn't have to for the long, as Fanrell started walking towards him. When the elf was by his side, Thorin was about to start yelling at him, public be damned when a slender hand was held up in a calming gesture "Before you start, I am sorry that I wandered off when I said I would stay where you could see me." He pulled the dwarf closer to the building and out of the direct path of all the people. "This is for you." He helled out his other hand.

There were two sticks with red apple's stuck firmly on the end, each covered with a sticky, sugary coating about three-quarters of the way up. Fanrell took one for himself and held the other one out to Thorin with a little smile on his pale lips. Thorin looked at the proffered treat and then took it. He didn't quite get why Fanrell would have bought him something after he had been ignoring him or barking at him. Was this how Elf's dealt with arguments? The anger that had been burning just a moment ago seemed to have been put out by the unexpected.

"Thank you." He said and looked at it for a moment. Fanrell didn't seem to dwell on it too much and started back out into the street but waited for Thorin to join him. The shorter male followed and they made their way over the crest of the hill they had been climbing and into the main market of the City.

There were stall's set up all around the large open square selling everything that could be grown, made or imported from far off lands. Silks and cottons in many bright colours and complicated patterns, there was food on every other stall, the aroma's mixing with that of the fresh cut flowers, perfumed waters, huge bags of exotic spices and sticks of smoking incense.

In the middle of the plaza came the sound of laughing children, it drew the elf's eyes and he saw the reason for the childish glee. Young children were sat on carved wooden animal's which bobbed up and down as adults pulled them round and round on ropes.

"This is...amazing." Fanrell said with wide eyes he looked more like a child than ever, he seemed unable to decide where he wanted to look first. Thorin had seen it all before of course, he had been on that carousel when he had been a small boy and but it seemed that Fanrell had never seen anything like this before in his long life.

Thorin smiled a little at him and bit into the toffee apple in his hand. "Go on then I will catch up to you." he said with apple crammed into the side of his mouth. Fanrell was gone within seconds and Thorin gained another toffee apple. The white haired elf was now standing in front of one of the silk seller's who was doing her best to try and make a sale to him.

Sitting on a bench Thorin sat and finished his toffee apple, and Fanrell's, because he was hungry and there wasn't much of it left anyway. There was a large bucket that the vegetable vendors used for old food they couldn't sell, that was where Thorin threw the cores before the wandered back out into the market place. Fanrell was still at the silk merchant, now though he was draped in a deep purple silk with golden embroidery. Thorin decided that he should probably go and rescue the lithe creature, if elves didn't shout their wares then Thorin was sure that the elf had no idea what aggressive sales were or how to get out of one.

"...looks splendid on you, my dear." The woman was telling Fanrell as she carefully pulled his loose braided hair from inside the cloth to lay against it. "A coat of this would have all your friends green with envy."

"They would if he had any friends." Thorin cut in, standing next to the elf, who appeared to be a little shocked at the sales tactics. "How much is it?"

"Prince Thorin, an honour that you would visit my humble stall." The woman dropped a curtsy like a professional. Most of the stall owners and indeed most of the city knew who Thorin was on sight, his tell tale blue clothing made it easy for word of mouth to spread. "The price is very reasonable, my lord. three gold a yard."

That was pretty reasonable considering the colour and the gold thread. Fanrell didn't seem to think so because his eyes were wider than ever and he looked like he might interrupt, but a silencing look from Thorin as he dug out his coin purse and started counting out gold into the woman's hand.

"Have five yards sent to Erebor." He said unwrapping Fanrell and nodding to the woman before steering his husband away from the stall.

"You didn't have to buy me that!" Fanrell said as soon as they were out of earshot "What did you buy me that for?"

"It looked good on you." Thorin said with a shrug as he wandered over to a stall selling flowers and gave them a cursory glance. Dwarves were not of course that flippant when it came to spending their money, they only parted with it if the price was fair and they had a use for what they were buying. Thorin knew that his new husband had fine clothing, much finer than what he had on now but it was all very...elvish. The cloth would come in handy at a later date he was sure.

They walked around together, stopping at stalls and looking over the amazing creations that were spread before them, some of the stall owners were Dwarves that came to sell items that were created inside the mountain. Fanrell asked questions every now and then and Thorin would answer to the best of his knowledge. A couple of the City guards walked past them and that must have reminded Fanrell of a question he wanted to ask, but not one Thorin was exspecting.

"Do you know what the spikes on the top of the guards helms are for? At first I thought it might just be for decoration, because it's not like it's in the most strategic of places to put a spare offensive weapon, but I find it a strange decoration if so." Fanrell mused.

What on earth went on in that elf's head? The Dwarf Prince tought, but he did his beast to answer. "I have absolutely no idea what they are really for, but I know what me and my friends used them for when we were younger." There was a touch of a smile on the dwarf's face.

"And what was that?" Fanrell asked with his eyebrow raised.

"It was a common game to try and sneak up to a guard while we were here, bored out of our skulls, and stick fruit on them, without the guard noticing till you were well away. Apples were generally the winning fruit, oranges had too much juice, used to drip and make the guard look round before you could run away."

Thorin smirked

Fanrell looked at him with a grin on his face and a shocked look to his eyes. "That's positively beastly, you must have been a little monster when you were younger"

"Oh? And I suppose that you were a perfect child?" Throin snorted "Sitting there like a snowflake on display. Terrified of getting grubby." He chuckled. Fanrell pushed him a little with a laugh at the very thought, this was rather pleasant, just talking. Balin had been right, talking with Fanrell was far better than listening to other people speak of him.

"I think you will find that the hard part of raising me was keeping away from activities that got me 'grubby', Master Dwarf. Iona used to pinch my ears every time I came back to my room covered in grass stains and dust." He smiled a little at his own memory. "but tormenting poor guards just doing their job because of their silly hats, I am totally innocent of."

By now they were strolling gently towards another stall, selling bread in a myriad of strange shapes, when they were hailed from behind by a familiar dwarvish voice. "Oi, Thorin! It's time te be moving on! Tell your elf to get 'is peachy behind inte action! I so bored I just nutted a pony to wake myself up!"

The elf and the dwarf looked at each other, sharing an expression of shared amusement.

"Dain." They said at the same time.


End file.
